


Hearth and Home

by Percygranger



Series: A Minor Practitioner [1]
Category: The Covenant (2006)
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Magic, Magic-Users, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2806838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Percygranger/pseuds/Percygranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah is never quite sure what to do about the future, but she tries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hearth and Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littlerhymes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlerhymes/gifts).



Magic has always been a part of Sarah’s life. Tiny instances of it are almost always present, adding up to a feeling of warmth that never quite goes away. There are the bags of herbs that her mother puts in each room, sweet and comforting when nightmares come. There is a small red box in the kitchen, the well-loved set of tarot cards. There are her father’s crystals, proudly displayed on desk and shelf. There are the regular celebrations of the seasons, the sabbats, some easily coinciding with popular culture, not requiring much of an of explanation to friends: All Hallow’s Eve, Beltane, Winter Solstice. Others are uniquely Wiccan: Ostara, Lammas, Summer Solstice.

 

Before the idea of sustainable, local food was in vogue, Sarah’s parents displayed a reverence for everything they ate, the ingredients they used. Salt and lavender and sage all had a purpose beyond the decorative, all had a history her parents taught Sarah.

 

As she grew up, she realized that the feeling of comfort she got at home was from the boundaries, the spells of good intent her parents placed, each small gesture adding up until it felt like being near a fire in her heart, like being wrapped in a soft blanket. They’d included her in the ceremonies so easily that it took Sarah a while to understand that not all families did this, sweeping out evil, pouring offerings, meditating regularly. Some of her friend’s homes were so cold and barren, but Sarah had just figured they liked the A/C high.

 

Of course, she pushed back as she grew older, the cotton batting of protective magic feeling like she had her ears stuffed full, the idea that her parents were so devout to something as kooky and strange as Wicca an embarrassment. All she wanted to be was normal.

 

It was kind of amazing how well they handled it, in review. Maybe they’d been expecting it, although forward planning wasn’t really her father’s forte, and her mama wasn’t one to try and change the future, although she certainly did like to know about it. Maybe her attempts at future sight simply helped them adapt to new circumstances. No matter how or why it happened, meeting the Gregors changed a lot of things.

 

It meant a lot, getting to know kids who had been raised in a similar way to her. It helped that the oldest, Lizzie, was the epitome of cool to a twelve year old. And best of all, it shed light on Sarah’s own fledgling abilities before they spun into something frightening, alienating her further from her roots.

 

*&*&*

 

It started with simple feelings: Sarah looked at a small stone figure on a shelf and was immediately swamped by dread. She found street-corners catching her eye, making her jumpy. Lizzie not only noticed, but asked.

 

“Hey there.” Lizzie flopped down on the couch next to Sarah. “You look disturbed. Did my brothers ask to marry you again?”

 

Sarah laughed, “Nah, it’s nothing.” She pulled her eyes away from the shelf where the miniature rested.

 

Lizzie followed her gaze. “Something up there caught your eye?” She pushed herself back up and went to look. “I suppose that candle is pretty awesome.” Picking up the gold-decorated pillar of wax, she looked back at Sarah.

 

Sarah shrugged. Lizzie’s eyes crinkled in a mischievous grin, and she played a silent game of eenie meenie miney mo, fingers skipping between the objects arranged there. Landing on the figure, she picked it up. Sarah stiffened.

 

“This freaking you out?” Lizzie said. “It’s harmless.”

 

“Sure? I don’t really know what it is.” Sarah ventured.

 

“It’s a watcher, storing up the energy of those around it. Once the owner decides to use it, it releases it all at once into the spell.” Lizzie shrugged. “It’s a magic battery.”

 

“But, the power could attract spirits and things, right?” Sarah asked, letting her imagination conjure up what might happen.

 

“Sure.” Lizzie put the figure back down. “It’s unlikely though, if you’re careful.”

 

“Please be careful, then.” Sarah said, with an urgency she couldn’t explain.

 

Lizzie looked at Sarah, considering. “Yeah, I’ll tell mom.”

 

Sarah didn’t know exactly what happened after that, but the stone disappeared, and Mrs Gregor got sick for a day. The Gregors had made sure Sarah knew it was a good idea to talk about funny feelings after that.

 

Eventually she got a name for it: premonition. It was ironic, in a way, getting a gift her mother had to work so hard for. But it was very different from scrying, from cards. Her gift was unpredictable, easy to mess up. Acting without care, she might influence the outcome in the wrong direction if she managed to influence it at all.

 

Mama called it fate, and explained it as the deck stacking for so long against someone or something that the eventual outcome had to happen. Sarah wanted to know why she had to learn about it if there was nothing she could do, but no-one had an answer for her.

 

*&*&*

 

Secrecy was a touchy subject among Sarah’s community. Freedom of religion has been the law for a very long time now, although the application of said law has varied immensely. Sarah’s parents and other adult mentors brought this up in discussions, taught her and the other children how Kennedy simply being Catholic was a huge step in the Presidency. And it was impossible not to see now in the skewed examples of their own faith, of Wicca and Buddhism and Satanism, on TV and in the movies, that full equality was not truly there. They were allowed to be there, used for scary fairy tales and childish beliefs, or peaceful and invisible, but not necessarily accepted institutionally the way Christianity was. But days of being burned at the stake were past, thankfully.

 

And so, most people were not secretive. They wished to be open about their faith, to be authentic to themselves, and in order to spread understanding. Some invited people to celebrate with them the way Jewish and Christian and Muslim people did.

 

Sarah found that there were a million ways (at least) to be a Wiccan, with each person she met. Each practitioner leaned towards the methods that most suit them, that felt right. Some worshiped deities, others confronted the full power of nature, still others sang and played music. Cards and crystals were only a few ways these beliefs were expressed.

 

But it was understood, at least among Sarah’s small community, that some things were sacred and to be kept from the general public.

 

Mama explained that “People don’t want proof, no matter how they search for it. Belief isn’t and shouldn’t be based on proof, it should be about yearning, and deciding for yourself what is right. People who have proof of the ineffable without a framework for it destroy themselves and others, at least at first. They attack to defend themselves.”

 

Sarah kept quiet about her abilities. It was in part because of the fear of attack, of rejection, yes, but something inside her didn’t feel right about letting people know without great need. Unfortunately, what she saw created great need sometimes. Knowing what might happen felt like an invitation to change it, prompting more than just small tweaks to her behavior. It inspired her to attempt to change the future in big ways the first few times, mostly with disastrous results.

 

It took time for Sarah to realize that the future responded to the littlest things. A friend’s compassion, a lie at the wrong time, shoes that don’t fit. But once she understood that, started to look for those little things, tweaking the future towards a happier ending was easier. Not always possible, but easier.

 

*&*&*

 

Some things about magic were fun. The spooky stories, for instance. Sarah enjoyed a good scare if she knew it wasn’t real. So when the older kids sat down to tell tales that they heard from a friend who had heard it from a friend, she was willing and eager to listen.

 

“In the days before the Salem witch trials-”

 

All the kids groaned, this was an old one.

 

“Wait, wait, hear me out!” Lizzie said, invoking her authority as eldest. It helped that she had an excellent sense of the dramatic. Her stories were always exciting. “In the days before the Salem witch trials, it is said that witches, deathly afraid for their lives, decided to hide. But how could they do that? Every woman was suspect, and every girl a woman in training.” Lizzie paused, looking between the kids.

 

Sarah found herself leaning forward.

 

“And so they cursed themselves,” Lizzie intoned.

 

Everyone gasped.

 

“They cursed themselves so that their families no longer had power spread throughout the bloodline. They concentrated it in the only place it would be above suspicion: their eldest sons. They bent to the whims of the patriarchy, giving up their own power in order to survive.”

 

“But how is that a curse?” Asked one of the others, Peter, the second son.

 

“You can’t see it? Feel it?” Lizzie asked. “Concentrating power is a dangerous exercise. It changes the body, the mind. We all know the warning against asking for power from demons, but what about our own natural power? Sometimes we pass on our gifts, if the need is great, but what happens when one person is given the talents of an entire family?”

 

The kids considered this.

 

“I’ll tell you,” Lizzie said. “The power uses _you_ instead of the other way around. It takes and takes and burns you out. Using it feels good, maybe, affecting the world always feels good, doesn’t it?”

 

The kids nodded.

 

“But if you’re doing it at three, four, five times the rate you should, it takes a toll. Magic always preserves a balance. Even if you abstain, never use your gifts - can you even imagine that? Giving up magic when you have so much? It’s unnatural, a burden, always weighing you down. Always whispering temptation.”

 

“So what happened to the witches who cursed themselves?”

 

“They made a pact,” Lizzie said solemnly, “to never pass down their power, and to break it one generation after the witch hunts ended, returning everyone to their natural balance.”

 

Sarah broke in, “That sounds good.”

 

“Doesn’t it though?” Lizzie’s mouth twisted. “But the knowledge of how to break this curse was lost, maybe forgotten, maybe even taken and burned by those hunting the witches. The curse was based on blood, renewed by the birth of a new first son, because the witches had no way of knowing how long the fires would burn, and so it kept on going, each generation stronger than any witches should be, compelled to use their power.”

 

The children sat still, enraptured.

 

“The eldest boys. They were raised together, taught by those who had survived the purges. So much knowledge lost. They fought, killed one another, broke their family’s pact, passed on power. And eventually, the people noticed, and the witch hunts began again, worse. This time the witches fought back, their power terrible, a crude instrument in their badly trained hands. They fought, they _killed_ , but the people won. They won because they were many, and the boys were few, and each use of power aged them, making them weaker in body and mind, although the power never seemed to fade. But the people did not stop at that, no. Eventually, the family lines of the witches were wiped out. Their houses a ruin, and the curse was broken, because there was no one to pass the power to anymore.”

 

Sarah let out a breath, on the edge of tears, she looked around to see the other children in similar states.

 

Lizzie leaned back, satisfied. “We always say ‘an it harm none, do as ye will’. I say never forget yourself in that. A curse may be one way to avoid death, but is it really better than it?”

 

*&*&*

 

“Of course we support your decisions, dear, but...Ipswich?” Sarah’s father looked confused. “It’s very...out there.”

 

Sarah shrugged. “It looked good at the time. Very fancy old, kind of like Hogwarts, Harvard will like it, and the recruiter was nice. I probably won’t even get in.”

 

Sarah’s father mock-bristled at that. “ _My_ daughter not make the cut? Obviously something is very wrong there if that happens.”

 

Snorting, Sarah went back to her applications.

 

*&*&*

 

“Mom, dad, I got in!” Sarah walked into the living room with an open letter in her hand.

 

“Oh! Honey, that’s wonderful.” Sarah’s mom got up immediately, arms open for a hug. “My baby, going off to school…” Her mom murmured, pulling back to look at her with a tinge of regret.

 

“What did I tell you? Of course she’d get in.” Her dad came up for his own hug, then put a hand around her mom’s waist. “We’re so proud of you, Sarah. You’re sure this is what you want to do?”

 

Sarah nodded. “Yeah, this feels right.”

 

“Oh?” Sarah’s mother looked at her quizzically. “Right as in a _feeling_ feeling? Or just…”

 

“Um,” Sarah breathed a small nervous laugh, “No feeling feeling, no. Just what I want to do.”

 

“Okay, good.” Her dad nodded firmly. “Power shouldn’t dictate your every move.”

 

Sarah grinned, happy for the support. “I’m going to Ipswich!”

 

*&*&*

 

Sarah double checked her list. It was more than she’d thought she’d need at first, but this is what the school had recommended. Clothes, towels, laundry stuff, some bedroom things, and parent-recommended snacks.

 

“Almost like going away to college…” Her mom sighed. “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to deal with that for another year or two.”

 

“I’ll be fine, mom.”

 

“You certainly will,” her mom replied. “We have faith in you.” She pulled a small bag out of her pocket. “But just in case…I made you a spellbag.”

 

Sarah smiled, warmed by the gesture, and took the token without complaint.

 

“And your father wants you to have this.” Her mother brandished a small scrap of paper.

 

“A...phone number?” Sarah read it curiously.

 

“A local witch we’ve met and liked. Miranda Kalin; a no nonsense kind of lady. If you ever have trouble of that sort, she can help.”

 

Sarah took out her phone to create a new contact. “You’re making me nervous!”

 

“Well, join the club. Our baby’s going away and we won’t be around to help. You can never be too prepared.”

 

Sarah acknowledged the point with a bob of her head, fingers busy at her keypad. “Have you done any spreads about it?”

 

Her mom looked cagey, and Sarah groaned. “Mom! It’s about me, you may as well ‘fess up.”

 

Her mom sighed dramatically. “Fine. It’s very indistinct. But you’ll meet new people and have an adventure or two.”

 

“So, something dad could have predicted?”

 

Her mom took the needling with a wry grin. “Can you really blame me for trying?”

 

*&*&*

“243...245.” Sarah pulled her rolling luggage to a stop and faced the door. Shifting awkwardly in front of it for a second, she took a breath and raised a hand to knock.

 

A pretty black girl answered, “Hey, you my new roommate?”

 

“That’s me,” Sarah answered, grinning hopefully. She stuck out a hand. “Sarah, Wenham.”

 

The girl took it with a small smile. “Kate Tunney.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Sarah concluded the social ritual of introduction with a firm handshake, going for a friendly smile.

 

“Sure is, I’ve been hoping someone would come save me from boredom.” Kate turned and led the way into the room. It was big, for a dorm, beds laid out parallel to each other, perpendicular to the length of the room, a window in between them. There was plenty of walking space left over, desks set on the other side, a bathroom door open at the far end. The walls, like the floor, were paneled with wood. Light filtered in from the window, and the cloudy glass set above their heads in the wall facing the hall.

 

“This is really nice,” Sarah said, walking in. Kate had obviously moved in already, but the room didn’t seem overly clean or messy. Maybe living with someone wouldn’t be so bad.

 

“Yeah, we live the swank life.” Kate lounged on the bed and laughed at her own words. “Just wait ‘til you go to the parties.”

 

Sarah rolled her luggage to the unoccupied bed at the end away from the door. “I should go get the rest of my stuff.”

 

Kate pushed herself up to standing again. “I’ll help.”

 

“Oh, thanks, my parents are down there, just so you know.”

 

“No problem. I’m good with adults.” Kate’s grin was infectious. They exited the room, and headed down the hall. “So, tell me about yourself. Where are you from? Who’s the family?”

 

“Um, Boston? My family are just the Wenhams? Nobody special.”

 

Kate nodded. “Cool. Family is a thing here. Some people get offended if you don’t know the vaunted history.” She rolled her eyes. “So, you’re scholarship?”

 

Sarah smiled, lips quirked. “Yeah.”

 

“Don’t worry, some people might threatened because your grades are actually good, and your blood isn’t blue, but I think the rest of you will make up for it.” She gestured generally to her own face. Warm, light brown skin crinkled around dark eyes sparkling with mirth. “Boys love the blond and brown eyes combination. Especially with that long hair! How do you keep it that straight? I have to use a straightener, obviously.”

 

Sarah felt her cheeks warm.

 

“Aww, blushing! What a cutie.”

 

Sarah ducked her head. “So, what about you? Where are you from? What’s the family?”

 

“Heh, cute and quick,” Kate’s tone was approving. “My family’s not especially old, just rich. My grandma invented a vacuum engine and dust collection device, and grandpa helped her patent them. It got them started, and they made some good investments after that. They made sure mom had a good education, and now there’s me!” Kate made a ‘ta-da’ gesture.

 

“That really awesome,” Sarah said.

 

Kate waved it off. “Enough about history, let’s talk about here and now. I’ve been here three years, and only last year did I finally manage to find a boy worth shit.”

 

“Oh yeah? Who are you dating?”

 

“Pogue Parry,” Kate said, with evident satisfaction.

 

Sarah laughed. “Is that a blue blood kind of name?”

 

“It is, actually. Despite that, he’s a pretty good guy. If you come to the party tomorrow night I’ll introduce you.”

 

“Party?”

 

“Night before classes start there’s always a bonfire in the woods. Just people drinking and hanging out, the usual.”

 

“Sounds familiar except for the woods part.”

 

“You don’t have much of that where you come from, do you?”

 

Sarah shook her head. “Not really.”

 

“Don’t worry, it’s just a good place to gather and scatter from when the cops come. I won’t be ‘getting back to nature’ any time soon. And I won’t stand in your way if you want to, but I don’t recommend it.”

 

“Uh, no thank you.”

 

They left the building, headed to the parking lot where Sarah’s parents were waiting.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Kate said genially, shaking hands with aplomb. They all took a bag and headed back to the room.

 

Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad.


End file.
